Ruthie's Birth Story (1 year later)



We were able to celebrate Ruthie this weekend with cupcakes, balloons and a party hat. It was small, simple and perfect. My heart was so overwhelmed with gratefulness for her life—she truly is such a gift and the perfect addition to our family.  

I wrote out her birth story soon after she was born, but chickened out on posting it— but looking back on her first year and remembering all that went into the 9 months of carrying her—I can’t help but want to share God’s grace and faithfulness in her story. I’ve left out a ton of details mainly because they're boring and secondly, there were so many elements to the story—physical, emotional, and spiritual—it just seemed like too much to share here. 

So that being said… here's the Cliff Note's version.

Ruthie's Birth Story



When I got pregnant with Ruthie, I knew immediately I really wanted to have her naturally. There were a lot of reasons why—some personal, some spiritual, and some just because it made sense to me. I wasn’t trying to prove anything or be super mom. (because I sure as heck am not)

I immediately started studying and wanting to learn any and everything there was to know about natural childbirth—birth stories, blogs, books, and movies. We signed up for the Bradley Method Class and I drug Jeremy to a 2 1/2 hour class Tuesday nights for 8 weeks. We laughed a lot and enjoyed getting a babysitter, having Torchy’s Tacos before hand, and getting some time together.

For 9 months I thought about what her birth would be like every day. If it would actually “work out” like I wanted. If I would be able to handle the pain. If I would end up going through all the work and needing a c-section. I dealt with a lot of fear and a lot of doubt, but the Lord was so near and brought me so much peace with each passing month as I pored over scripture—reminding me that fear is not from Him and I can trust him completely with myself and my sweet baby.

October 9: I was over 41 weeks (over due) and though I was certain God knew when this baby needed to come, I was emotionally and physically spent. Ruthie and I were healthy and with my Doctor’s blessing, she let me just wait it out till 42 weeks. But I hit a wall. It was coming down to the wire and I was so afraid I would have to be induced, so we prayed like crazy that night I would go into labor on my own.

October 10: At 3 am I started having what I thought were more Braxton Hicks. I laid in bed hoping it was the day, but I assumed they would stop. After an hour, I popped up, put on some worship music, got the Lavender going, and started doing laps around the house. I sat on the exercise ball, made labor-aid (yes…), googled signs of labor (as though I didn’t already know) until 6 am when I woke up Jeremy. I was still a little bit in denial that it was really it.

All I wanted to do was clean. In my head, I thought we would be there all day laboring and I wanted it to be a peaceful, clean atmosphere. So I was vacuuming, cleaning toilets, sweeping the floor, doing laundry—all along stopping for contractions. Maybe it was a good distraction, or maybe I spent the last moments before her birth not dreaming of my baby and praying… no, I was cleaning the bath tubs.

By 10:00, the moan/slight yelling begun (yes, a little like the movies). I could tell there was a huge shift in pain and her position— so I got super antsy to get the hospital. I did not want to have her at home.

And this is where it got a little crazy—at the last minute I wanted Jeremy by my side on the way to the hospital, so our Doula laid down the back seats of her minivan and we knocked around like ping pong balls for 20 minutes as she drove like a bat out of hell to the hospital. She’d slam on her breaks and floor it— while I cried out to God to keep us alive. On all fours over a red birthing ball,  I went through transition (worst part of labor) in the backseat of an Odyssey. Not really what I had in mind, although again, the distraction may have been the best thing for me. (but I don’t ever want to do that again.)

I got to the hospital and was almost a 9 and 100% effaced. I was so relieved I was not a 3. They strapped monitors on me and started with their million questions, and eventually wheeled me into the delivery room where I was able to start pushing. But due to the sprint the last 3 hours, I was in another world, and I was not pushing like I was supposed to. I was exhausted.

I could tell the nurses were beginning to freak out and at one point someone asked if they should call the NICU. My doctor, very calmly said, No, she just needs to have this baby. I could sense the urgency and tension rising and I knew it was time to meet my baby. I’ll never forget Jeremy looking at me with bright eyes and saying, You have done the hardest part, you are almost done, Babe!

I felt like I had nothing else in me— I could barely keep my head up. But I knew it was no longer about me and what I was feeling. In those next moments, The Lord gave me just enough energy and adrenaline, and with 2 more pushes, we met our Ruthie.




With surprise in Jeremy’s voice and a smile on his face, he told me, Its a girl, we have a girl. (we hadn't found out). I started crying and scooped her up—My Girl, the one I had prayed for and worried about and dreamed about. We had done it. She and I both. So much emotion. So much love. The feeling of relief and joy that my baby was finally in my arms safe and sound was a feeling I cannot put into words. All those nights of worrying and wondering were over— she was here!

She was born at 12:50pm on October 10th. 10 hours of labor and 55 minutes after we got to the hospital. 

She and I will forever have a special bond. Those months and weeks leading up to her birth—I have never prayed so much for anyone or anything. Even though I was prepared, no amount of knowledge or exercises or proper diet could replace the fact that the God of the Universe that created that precious child, had her.

Even if I didn’t get to experience a natural childbirth and needed an epidural, or if she was breech or misaligned and I had an emergency C-Sections—God would have still been good. He would have still been sovereign and had her life in His hand since the beginning of time. (and I would have not been any less of a mama.)



This is not a post on why I think natural childbirth is so great. I do hope to do it again, but we all know that in the end— whatever method or choices—its all about a healthy mom and healthy baby. I will be honest though, there are parts to her story that I didn't love (and didn't share) and parts that didn't pan out like I planned. But then I look at my baby girl, and don't really care all that much.

She's here, and that's all that matters.


Here are some great resources that were super helpful: 

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